


writing a resolution

by mixtapestar



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 16:53:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5593759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mixtapestar/pseuds/mixtapestar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the end of the year, and Merlin just wants to get some writing done and help out his uncle by working at the Old Albion Inn. The last thing he needs is some stuffy corporate git messing up his routine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	writing a resolution

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote the majority of this last year in 2014, so the majority of the references are about a year old. Remember a time before the Apple Watch and before Jurassic World was a known entity...
> 
> This story is set in a city vaguely resembling Chicago. I was feeling nostalgic for it at the time.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who supported me along the way, especially [picowrimo](picowrimo.livejournal.com)!

_The knight rides out toward the dragon, showing no fear now that he’s made his decision to fight. He dismounts with a clang of chainmail, brandishing his sword and moving forward._

_The dragon is huge, but that makes it slow. The knight fends off the swing of its tail with a parry of his sword, trying to memorize the beast's movements. Suddenly, it breathes a burst of flame, and he turns away so that his left side gets the worst of it. He firms his grip on the sword, and-- buggering fuck my hero’s a lefty isn’t he?_

Merlin sits back in his chair and cracks his neck. It’s likely that last paragraph will need some editing once he checks his notes.

He goes back over what he’s written in the past hour, forcing himself not to edit but to stay focused, when he hears an incessant dinging that can only be some impatient jerk at the front desk.

Merlin heaves a sigh and checks the time - thirty minutes past final check-in, sure enough - but he trudges back out to deal with the customer anyway.

A blond man in a business suit is standing there waiting for him, a scowl on his face, and Merlin instantly dislikes him. He puts on his most polite smile, though, and asks if he’s checking in.

“Of course I am; I’m not standing around here for my health.” He tosses his ID onto the counter. “Arthur Pendragon."

Merlin grits his teeth and takes his time looking up his name on the computer. It’s not as if they had any other bookings left today - everyone else showed up by the proper time. He fights the fog that always comes with being interrupted while he’s been writing, trying to focus on the task at hand.

Normally this would be when he made polite small talk with the customer, asking where they’re coming in from, whether they were here for business or pleasure, that kind of thing. But the longer he’s treated to this prat’s scowl the less he cares to even make an effort.

“You’ll be in 3A,” Merlin says, reaching under the counter for the key as he tells him his total.

Arthur tosses a gold credit card down on the counter before Merlin finishes his sentence. “There. I do suppose you can _take_ credit cards?"

Merlin snatches up the card, his patience wearing thin. “Of course,” he says, already dreading the long wait for the purchase to go through. Anything past five seconds and he’s sure he’ll start hearing about that too.

He fills the time by grabbing a print-out of the amenities and house rules, taking care to emphasize the things he wouldn’t put it past this arrogant prat to ignore. Arthur’s scowl seems to deepen at the sound of hearing he has to follow rules, and Merlin loses a grip on his politeness. “And again, you’ll be on the third floor, if you can manage enough patience to make the trip."

Arthur blinks at him incredulously, clearly thrown off by Merlin giving him back just a small taste of his own rudeness. “Excuse me?"

Luckily the receipt has just finished printing. “Please sign here, and here’s your key."

Again he disregards his normal procedure by not providing his number in case of any problems with the room. He doesn’t want to invite the trouble this bloke’s sure to cause. Instead he manages a semi-pleasant, “Enjoy your stay!” before disappearing back to his room.

He stares at his cursor on the screen for five full minutes before realizing he’s never going to get anything done in his current worked-up state. He shoots off a text to his best friend Gwen, who immediately invites him over for dinner. He grins and accepts. Gwen always knows how to make him feel better.

******

“And you should’ve seen the angry way he threw his credit card at me! Honestly, I should’ve told him to be careful on the narrow staircase, his big head probably wouldn’t fit."

Gwen gives a short laugh. “I’m sure you did enough damage as it was,” she says. “You know Gaius needs the business."

Merlin sighs. “I do. But we don’t exactly want the place suddenly swarmed by stuffy corporate gits. That would be worse than bankruptcy."

“What could possibly be worse than bankruptcy?” Lance asks as he joins them in the kitchen. He presses a kiss to Gwen’s cheek, and Merlin can’t help smiling at them for a moment.

“Merlin is once again feeling attacked by the corporate world,” Gwen teases.

“Not the whole world, just this one corporate arse."

“No offense taken,” Lance says easily, and Merlin waves him off.

“You know you’re the exception that proves the rule."

Gwen laughs. “The only bearable executive in the company,” she says, nudging Lance playfully.

“Still wasn't enough incentive to keep you around,” Lance says to Merlin, but his smile says he doesn’t hold it against him. “Speaking of, you’ll never believe who stopped by today."

He starts to recount an interaction with Merlin’s final customer - one that Merlin had been sure would never come back after the way he snapped at them - but as it turns out, they respected Merlin’s cheek and came back to sign a contract after all this time.

“Seems more likely that their latest IT support told them off too, given the delay,” Lance says, “but the boss is certainly happy about the contract."

Merlin finds himself finally relaxing as Lance goes on to give details about the phone call. He knew it was a good idea to come here, and he’s certain that he’ll be able to continue writing when he gets back to the inn.

He almost manages to make it through the night without either of them mentioning his ex-boyfriend. He’s nearly got his coat back on when Gwen says, “Are you sure you’re holding up okay since Gus? You’re all alone at the inn. I know you get… bored.”

Merlin knows that ‘bored’ means ‘lonely’, but she was kind to change it. “I do fine, Gwen. I keep myself entertained.”

“If you ever want to double date,” she begins, and Merlin cuts her off.

“I’ve got your number."

“And you know you’re welcome here any time,” she says.

“I know,” Merlin answers. “But seriously. I’m fine.”

“Okay,” she says with a soft smile. Pulling him into a hug, she continues, “Take care of yourself, Merlin."

“Always."

******

When Merlin takes a break from his frantic typing, the first thing he notices is that his mug is empty. He distantly remembers bringing it up to his lips a few times in the past fifteen minutes and finding it empty. The second thing he notices is the familiar sound of someone else typing frantically nearby.

He pokes his head out and discovers the rude blond from earlier in the afternoon - Arthur, he remembers - spread out on the couch, mouth a firm line as he stares at his laptop and continues to type. He startles when he spots Merlin and pulls his legs down off the couch.

Merlin feels some of his residual anger fade as he watches Arthur shake his muscles out. He grabs his mug and walks out of his room. “Couldn’t sleep?"

“Not really,” Arthur admits, rubbing at his eyes. “Sorry if I woke you. Am I allowed to be in the common area this late?"

“It’s the common area; you can be here whenever you like,” Merlin tells him. “Why don’t I make us some tea?"

Arthur takes a moment to answer, still mostly focused on his computer screen, but eventually pauses to smile at Merlin and say, “That’d be great, thanks."

Once he’s slipped downstairs to put the kettle on, Merlin takes a few minutes to decompress after staring at his laptop for the past few hours. By the time the water starts to steam, he’s starting to feel like a normal person again. He navigates the narrow staircase carefully with the two mugs, leaving Arthur’s on the end table. He fully intends to leave him be, but Arthur closes his laptop decisively as he sets the mug down and gives Merlin a smile that warms him down to his toes.

Merlin sinks into the armchair nearby, telling himself he’ll only stay for a minute while the chamomile works its way into his system. “Working late?” he asks Arthur.

Arthur sighs. “Not by choice. There’s just a lot going on right now, and with my father overseas, a lot of extra responsibility is falling on my shoulders."

Merlin nods, remembering well how corporate responsibilities tended to go. “It’s almost like you’re doing the work of two people."

“Exactly,” Arthur says, holding his mug close and blowing gently to cool it off. Merlin resolutely does not stare at his mouth. “Merlin, right?” Arthur says, and Merlin startles a bit before nodding. With another sigh, Arthur goes on, “I owe you an apology."

Merlin shifts uncomfortably, eyes focused on his tea. “You don’t owe me anything,” he says out of habit. “Unless your credit card fails to clear, I think all is settled."

“I was rude,” Arthur admits. “Traffic on the way was horrible, and I had a backlog of messages needing answered but my phone was dead, and I took it out on you. It’s not your fault that I was in a bad mood. You didn’t deserve to be treated that way."

Merlin considers for a moment. He’d been angry, sure, and he’d certainly filled Gwen’s ear full over dinner. He has no reason to forgive this random stranger, and yet some part of him wants to. “You’re hardly the first rude customer I’ve dealt with, especially during the holiday season.”

Arthur takes it for the accepted apology that it is, a smile edging onto his face. “Do you make tea for all your rude customers?"

“Just the ones who I catch looking pathetic at two in the morning."

Arthur makes an affronted noise, though it’s muffled by the tea. “Pathetic?” he says indignantly. “I think you mispronounced dedicated. Or maybe hard-working?”

“You know, I think my tongue did slip. I meant to say a sad sack of a man,” Merlin says, smirking, “with nothing but a decorative lamp and a wimpy router for company.”

“It’s not my fault your wi-fi is terrible!” Arthur says. “Seriously, your inn has three floors and what, ten rooms? It shouldn’t be that hard to provide a steady internet connection.”

“You’re staying at the _Old_ Albion Inn. If you wanted lightning-fast connectivity you should probably try some place that doesn’t boast the lamps as it’s most compelling feature."

Arthur laughs. “When you need a break from your roommate, you’ll take just about any place you can get. Anyway, you’re awfully disparaging for someone who supposedly lives here."

“Only a few months out of the year,” Merlin says. “My uncle owns the place. I've just been taking over a bit to give him a break. Besides, I actually know how to keep myself entertained by more than just a Blackberry."

Arthur chuckles. “Merlin, nobody uses a Blackberry anymore."

Merlin rolls his eyes and tries to ignore how nice his name sounds coming from Arthur’s lips. “Well, apologies for not knowing the current stuffy businessman chic."

“Who’s stuffy?” Arthur says.

Merlin takes his time giving Arthur a once-over. “You’re admittedly less so now that I’ve seen you in your Star Wars pajamas."

“Says the man wearing a Zelda T-shirt."

Merlin raises his eyebrows. Most people mistake his shirt for the Pink Floyd album cover, completely missing the reference. “You’re a closet gamer,” Merlin says, amused.

“Who said anything about closet?” Arthur says, smirking. Merlin laughs, slightly surprised and wondering if Arthur meant the innuendo.

“So what is it you do when you’re not manning the check-in counter?” Arthur asks after a lull.

Merlin hesitates. His evening has been much improved by their conversation so far. The last thing he wants is for it all to go downhill by being mocked for his career choices. Still, Arthur looks genuinely interested, his mocking tone diminished, and Merlin decides to take the chance. “I…I’m a writer."

Arthur’s expression makes Merlin think he’s going to crack a joke at first, but maybe he notes the wariness in Merlin’s own expression, because all he says is, “Sure, I can see that. Have you written anything I might have read?"

Merlin shakes his head. “I haven’t been published or anything. It’s still early days, but I try to stay motivated."

“Hang on,” Arthur says, a stubborn look returning to his expression. “If you’re a writer then _surely_ you need use of the wi-fi connection."

“Sure, sometimes,” Merlin admits. “Though at other times it’s better not to have the ability to be distracted by cat videos. And there’s a Starbucks right down the block for when our router here isn’t keeping up."

“Ah! So you admit the connection’s terrible."

“Only if you’re an impatient arse,” which, yeah, sometimes he is too.

Arthur looks at him as if he’s filling in the sentence the same way, and their laughs fade into warm smiles. Suddenly reminded of the last bloke that made him smile like that, Merlin lets his gaze fall to the floor, searching for a change of subject.

“So in your writing, do you stick to a particular genre?” Arthur asks, changing the subject for him.

“Fantasy,” Merlin says readily and unabashedly. “I’ve always loved the possibilities.”

Arthur’s mouth twists into a shape that makes Merlin think he’s trying not to laugh. “I read quite a lot of fantasy myself,” Arthur says, much to Merlin’s surprise. “What are some of your favorites?”

At Arthur’s prompting, Merlin talks about some of his favorite books and quickly discovers that Arthur is unforgivingly picky about the fantasy that he reads. Twice Arthur interrupts him to argue against the believability of the story.

“It’s _fantasy_ ,” Merlin reminds him. “There has to be some suspension of disbelief."

“There’s imagination and there’s blindly accepting the absurd,” Arthur scoffs. Merlin thinks about his own writing and wonders which category it would fall into.

Suddenly Merlin catches sight of the time and starts in surprise. “Oh, wow. It’s three in the morning. I should be off; I have to be up early."

“Me too,” Arthur says with a sigh, gathering up his computer. “I…” he starts, but when Merlin glances back at him, he seems to change his mind about whatever he had to say. “Goodnight."

“‘Night,” Merlin says, shooting him a grin as he disappears up the stairs.

******

Merlin sleeps fitfully, haunted by a dream throughout the night.

_He was back with Gus, inexplicably, though his dream self seemed to know things weren’t quite right. In the dream, Gus had been back in town for an evening and wanted to spend it out. Merlin had protested that he had plans to write. Gus was so upset, making Merlin feel guilty in that subtle way he had until Merlin finally caved. Merlin met up with him on the street corner, wearing his comfiest hoodie and trainers, and Gus pulled him along to the middle of uptown, into the elevators of his former work building, and directly back to his desk in the IT wing. “This is where you should be,” Gus demanded, and blocked Merlin when he tried to leave._

Merlin wakes nearly shaking, filled with anxiety to escape from his cubicle. It takes him a moment to realize Gus is long gone, and he never has to work to please him or to convince him to stick around again.

He gets through the morning in a daze. He’s not unused to nights with little sleep, but the nightmare seemed to take away the hours he did get.

Most of the people checking out seem to be in good spirits, though, and Merlin privately wonders if they’re heading home for fun New Year’s plans. His own plans are to nurse a mug of chamomile all night and hopefully get some writing done. If it’s true that whatever you’re doing at midnight on New Year’s is what you’ll do all year, then he’ll make damn sure he’s writing. He’ll take whatever good karma he can get.

He knows when noon is approaching by his rumbling stomach. He tends to eat a light breakfast, or sometimes just sticks to a cup of coffee, when he’s manning the inn, then he gets to treat himself to a good lunch break after check-out ends at noon.

Today he’s particularly hungry for some reason, but he’s got twenty minutes left and room 3B hasn’t shown their faces yet. They seemed the sleep-in types; Merlin’s pretty sure they’re the ones he heard arrive last night shortly before he found Arthur in the common area.

A breeze blows in as someone comes in the front. Merlin glances up, disinterested at first because if it’s not his final check-out family then he doesn’t care, but he quickly changes his opinion as he watches a wind-tousled Arthur bustle in. His suit doesn’t seem quite so stuffy today, especially as Merlin eyes appreciatively the way it hugs Arthur’s ass as he hangs up his coat just inside the door.

“Nobody ever uses that coat rack,” Merlin points out. “I’m not even sure it’s structurally sound."

Arthur smiles at him good-naturedly, practically sauntering up to the desk. “Why don’t you take it down then? Sell it at a garage sale, you’d probably earn a whole quarter."

Merlin huffs. “Don’t be daft. Can’t you see it pulls the whole room together? Part of the charm."

“Silly me,” Arthur says, his eyes dancing as they meet Merlin’s. There’s a few moments’ pause, and Merlin feels like he should immediately come up with an excuse to distract himself, but for some reason he lets himself look back.

Eventually, Arthur taps at the desk, effectively breaking them from their revery. “Listen,” he says, “have you eaten yet?"

“Not yet. You do see me behind this desk, right? I don’t just hang out back here for fun. I am actually doing a job."

“And a bang-up job you’re doing,” Arthur says, eyeing the book Merlin was obviously reading before he came in. “But surely you get a lunch break?"

Merlin eyes Arthur suspiciously, not sure what he’s driving at. “I’m waiting on 3B, and then I should probably make sure all is in order with their rooms…”

Merlin doesn’t know why he said that, because the cleaning staff does all of that, and they’re very competent. But he’s glad to have come up with something, hoping that Arthur will get to the point now and stop _looking_ at him like that.

“So you’re skipping lunch?"

“No,” Merlin protests, scoffing. “I’ll probably find five minutes to run down to the corner deli and bring back a sandwich."

“Perfect!” Arthur says with a flourish, straightening. “I’ll go get us some sandwiches. What do you typically order there?"

A bit flummoxed, Merlin answers him. He can’t come up with a reason not to, at least not fast enough.

The couple from 3B clatter down the stairs just as Arthur slips back outside, and Merlin focuses his attention on them, asking if they enjoyed their trip and if they’d like to reserve for the same time next year. It’s rare for anyone to take him up on that, much to Gaius’s chagrin, but Merlin just can’t do the pushy sales thing. He doesn’t point out to Gaius that most of the people that do reserve that far ahead typically cancel about a month before, once they send out the reminder.

3B is no different, politely declining and trying not to appear impatient as they wait for the antiquated printer to provide them a copy of their receipt. One of these days, Merlin will get a proper job outside of the inn, and the first thing he’ll do is replace the router and the printer, if only so he won’t hear the many complaints from their guests any longer.

He tries to go back to reading his book once the couple leaves, but he finds himself just staring down at the page, wondering why Arthur was so insistent about lunch. Was it supposed to mean anything? Maybe he was just being nice. He’d seemed to mean his apology last night about his rudeness; maybe this was his way of making it up to Merlin. Most likely he’ll just drop Merlin’s sandwich off and disappear upstairs into his room.

Suddenly Merlin remembers the other half of his excuse, that he needs to ‘check on the rooms’. Feeling absurd, he goes upstairs and chats with the cleaning staff for a few minutes. Though they seem a bit confused for Merlin to come find them when there are no issues, both Geoffrey and Alice let him ramble at them for a few minutes in a desperate attempt to distract himself.

Eventually, Merlin runs out of things to talk about, especially since they’re clearly trying to get their work done. He makes his excuses and trudges back downstairs.

To his surprise, Arthur is already back. He must have come in at some point when Alice had the vacuum running, because Merlin hadn’t heard the door.

“You must be the only ‘pickles only’ in the area,” Arthur quips. “They knew right away that this was for you."

Merlin takes the sub that Arthur hands to him, mumbling his thanks. “How much do I owe you?"

Arthur waves him off. “Do you have your spare five minutes now? Sit and eat with me."

Merlin can do nothing but stare as Arthur pulls the coffee table closer to the couch and unwraps his sub. He feels like he ought to resist, because everything in his head tells him that this is a bad idea, but he can’t come up with a good enough excuse.

“You know, we have a perfectly good dining area downstairs,” he says, giving in and pulling up the armchair he sat in last night.

“And turn down all this atmosphere up here? Look, you’ve got an old coat rack and everything."

They chat amicably for a while, and Merlin finds himself sinking in to the comfortable rapport they seemed to develop last night. Before he knows it, Arthur is glancing at his watch - an expensive monstrosity that probably works underwater and can accept calls - and announcing that he has to get back to work.

“Right,” Merlin says. “Me too. I didn’t even realize how long it’d been."

Arthur seems pleased suddenly, pausing in his cleanup to look at Merlin intently. After a moment in which Merlin itches to break the silence, he says, “What are your plans for tonight?"

Suddenly the prospect of writing through one year into the next sounds immensely pathetic, and Merlin grasps at some other prospect. “Oh, well. You know. Got to keep this place running. Lots of people milling about on New Year’s Eve, and I like to be available for our guests that might choose to stay in."

Arthur studies him for a second. Merlin suspects he sees right through his lie, especially since now he’s said it, he realizes it sounds even more pathetic than his actual plans.

“Well, look. I know this place is important, but I think it will run okay without you for a few hours. I’ve got this party I have to go to. More of an obligation than it ought to be, but I think it would be infinitely better if I had a friend along. Would you be interested in joining me?"

Merlin stares at him at first, completely caught off guard. First Arthur buys him lunch, and now a party invitation? Could Arthur actually be asking him out? But he’d clearly said he needed a friend to join him, just someone to distract from the obligation of the party. And anyway, Merlin is far more comfortable being Arthur’s guest than his date, especially since Arthur checks out the day after tomorrow. He finally says yes, telling himself that the way Arthur’s eyes seem to light up is just a trick of the light.

“Excellent! Wear a suit; I’ll come downstairs to pick you up at quarter of eight."

And with that, Arthur rushes off to get back to work. Panicked, Merlin suddenly realizes that he doesn’t have easy access to any of his suits, and he hurries to call Gwen.

******

“I don’t know, Gwen, I really don’t think it’s a date."

“Oh, don’t be silly,” she says, pushing another outfit at him. “Here, this one should look terrific on you."

As Merlin tries on yet another of Lance’s suits, he has to admit he’s rather excited about the idea of dressing up and going to a New Year’s Eve party. The last time he’d gone to one was when he was still at uni, and that was mostly an excuse to get drunk and make out with boys he had crushes on in the spirit of welcoming in the new year.

And that’s certainly not what’s in the cards for tonight. He’s pretty sure.

“Fabulous,” Gwen comments when he comes back out. She fusses over him, marking a couple of things to alter. “I’ll have to take it in a bit. Not to worry though, I can have it ready in a couple of hours. Plenty of time for you to get ready."

“Thanks again for your help,” Merlin says. “Are you sure Lance doesn’t care if I take one of his suits? It’ll hardly fit him again once you alter it for me."

“Oh please,” Gwen says dismissively, “he’s grown out of this one anyway. If you’d told me about this sooner I’d have taken you shopping for a proper suit and done it the right way.”

Merlin laughs. “I literally called you immediately after it happened. Besides, I already have suits, they’re just locked away where I don’t have to think about them anymore. I don’t have the key with me, otherwise I wouldn’t have bothered you with all this."

“It’s not often that you get asked out at the last minute by some handsome stranger,” Gwen says in a light, teasing tone.

Merlin cuts his eyes at her, prepared to laugh at her teasing, but the words hit him heavier than he expected them to. "I think I'd like for it to be a date,” he finally admits. "But even if it turned out to be, he’d still be leaving in two days."

"Oh, Merlin," Gwen says sympathetically. "Try to have fun tonight, anyway. It's a party! At the very least you'll probably get free drinks."

"That's the spirit," Merlin says, bumping shoulders with her.

******

Arthur comes downstairs promptly at 7:45, wearing yet another well-tailored suit that makes Merlin feel ridiculous in his second-hand one (even though Gwen’s work is quite good considering the rush).

“Look at that,” Arthur remarks, coming close and fiddling with Merlin’s cufflinks. “Don’t you clean up well."

Merlin blushes. “Whereas you look as prattish as always,” he deflects.

His comment only makes Arthur smile wider before he ushers Merlin out the door.

Merlin had been figuring on a cab, but it turns out Arthur’s hired a _driver_ which just makes him feel more ridiculous about this whole thing. They do, at least, have relative privacy on the ride over, in which Arthur sits very close and warns him against his half-sister.

“She’s extremely nosy, and don’t think just because she’s charming that she won’t stretch her foot out to trip you the moment there’s a benefit in it for her."

“Charming yet ambitious, hmm,” Merlin says, smirking. “Can’t think of anyone else that might describe."

Arthur pretends to be scandalized, but drops his act pretty quickly. “So you do think I’m charming,” he says. “I must be doing something right."

Merlin bites down on a smile that lasts him long enough for them to enter the venue. They go up to the 7th floor of the building, and Merlin is struck with the extravagance of the space as soon as they step off the elevator. Arthur’s hand is warm at the small of his back, and Merlin has a happy feeling he’s going to have a good night.

His good mood is quickly shattered, though, within five minutes of their arrival at the party. They walk into the ballroom, and it’s immediately obvious that there is no one here but executive types who are all about stepping on each other to get another rung higher on the ladder. Arthur introduces him to a few particular gems right off, and Merlin's halfhearted response to their questions about the state of the economy earns him a haughty look from everyone but Arthur. After that, he lets Arthur lead the conversation, taking a half-step back so that he’s almost, but not quite, part of the group.

They continue to make the rounds, Arthur introducing him to some people (as “my friend Merlin,” which perhaps is the answer to that question) and not to others as he exchanges pleasantries. Merlin begins to wonder who the people are who he’s not introduced to, who Arthur only talks to for a moment before making excuses to move on. Merlin can hardly imagine some of them being worse than others that he meets.

They finally seem to settle on one particular group as Arthur dives deep into conversation with a couple about the current state of affairs at their company. Merlin wants to be a good plus one, but he is finding it harder and harder to feign interest the longer he stands around. As a young woman in a slinky blue ballgown (clearly the best dressed here) joins them, Merlin slips away while the group’s attention is focused elsewhere.

He figures he’ll use the pretense of getting himself and Arthur some punch, but it’s pretty clear that Arthur continues not to notice his absence. He leaves the extra punch cup next to the bowl and takes his own, stepping off to the side to text Gwen.

_send help, party is just stuffy gits with Opinions_

Gwen doesn’t answer right away, so he finds himself drifting over to Words with Friends, opening up one of his ongoing games and looking for his best play. While he’s looking for a good use of his Z tile, she texts back: _oh no! :( are you and Arthur able to avoid them?_

 _Arthur is right in the middle of it all_ , he responds. _I’m hiding in a potted plant._

He continues to text and play games on his phone intermittently, with Gwen subtly nudging him to give the party another try. He pretends not to notice the suggestion, instead plying her for info about her planned night with Lance.

_it won’t be too exciting. we’ll probably do crackers at midnight and go straight to bed._

Merlin smirks as he sends back, _yes, bed as the ultimate goal sounds about your speed._

He gets back a scandalized _MERLIN!_ with a couple of angry emojis just as someone speaks to him out of nowhere.

“If you’re trying to hide, you’re not doing a very good job of it."

When Merlin looks up, he recognizes the pretty lady that had given him a reason to get away from the boring conversation. “Believe it or not, I only thought I’d step away for a second, but I don’t seem to have been missed."

They both glance over at Arthur, still engrossed in conversation, though some of the people seem to have changed.

“You’ll have to excuse Arthur,” she says. “He usually means well, but he’s got all the manners of a toad at a fancy dinner, especially when he gets his mind on ‘business’. I’m Morgana, by the way."

“Merlin,” he responds gleefully, shaking her hand.

“What is it that you do, Merlin?” she asks, seeming genuinely interested.

“I, erm, work at an inn not too far from here.” He doesn’t dare bring up his writing in a place like this - he’d be laughed out of the place.

“An inn,” she repeats, sounding interested. “I haven’t stayed at one of those in a while, but I have fond memories of visiting them when I was growing up."

Merlin nods. “It’s a cozy little place. Most of our customers are older, or families looking for a quiet getaway. It’s nice to have that option, I think, when you’re visiting the big city."

Morgana agrees, asking him about some of his clientele, and Merlin enjoys the nicest conversation he’s had since he arrived.

“So, how is it that you know my brother?” she suddenly asks, and Merlin puts the pieces together with a jolt of surprise. Based on Arthur’s description, he was expecting Arthur’s half-sister to be much more calculating and off-putting, like almost everyone else at this party.

As such, he doesn’t answer right away, especially since he thinks it should be obvious that Arthur is staying at his inn, given the circumstances. In his few seconds' delay, however, someone comes up and says urgently, “Morgana. We need you in the kitchens for a moment. So sorry, sir."

And before Merlin can even stammer out a dismissive, “No problem,” his one companion for the evening hurries out of sight.

Merlin sighs and checks the time. 9:45.

At this point, Merlin contemplates leaving. He’s only seen Arthur at a distance for a while now as he schmoozes with the other corporate types, and he doesn’t think he’ll be missed. Gwen immediately reprimands him via text when he shares the thought, reminding him how shit he would feel if someone did that to him. Sighing in resignation, Merlin pockets his phone and goes to find Arthur.

He fully intends to be mature, to say something to the effect of ‘this just isn’t working out’ and then avoid Arthur for the rest of his stay - naturally, the adult thing to do. But when he interrupts Arthur’s conversation, they only step a few paces away, and Merlin self-consciously feels like everyone is listening in. He finds himself blurting out the first excuse that comes to mind - that he’s not feeling well.

He tries to insist that he’ll go and Arthur should stay, but Arthur is suddenly full of concern. He makes his excuses to his cohorts and steers Merlin away before he can protest further.

As they near Merlin’s potted plant, Arthur pulls him to the side. “So be honest, are you actually sick, or just sick of the company?"

He looks so earnest that Merlin bites back the first mean response that comes to mind. Instead he sighs and admits, “I don’t have a terrible lot in common with anyone here."

Arthur nods. “Right. We’ll just— hang on,” he says, the smile that had started to form on his face quickly fading into an expression of concern. “Am I included in that? Would you rather go off on your own?”

Merlin shrugs. “Does your opinion of me hang heavily on how I view the state of the economy?”

Arthur laughs, not unkindly. “I didn’t bring you here tonight because of your views on the economy."

“Why did you bring me here?” Merlin finally asks, not able to stop himself any longer.

Arthur studies him for a moment, his hands slipping into his pockets. “We’ve been getting on quite well, I thought. I knew I had to put in an appearance here tonight, but I couldn’t help wondering if it might be more fun with a companion."

Merlin feels a twinge of guilt. “I don’t think I’m quite fit for this kind of party."

“No, it’s my fault. I should have warned you what you were getting into. I just… didn’t want you to say no."

They share a smile for a moment, until Merlin feels self-conscious enough to look away. He clears his throat and says, “We’re all right."

“Yeah?” Arthur says, and then all traces of vulnerability vanish from his expression. “Good. Let’s just pop into the kitchen on our way out."

He leads the way, steering them around groups of people and making his excuses as to why he can’t stay. Merlin does his best to look a little queasy, though he probably just looks ridiculous.

“Ah, Percy,” Arthur says as they pass into the kitchen. “Just the man I wanted to see."

A man of rather stocky build glances up, a smile breaking out on his face as he sees Arthur. “You only say that when you want something,” he says, but he claps Arthur on the back nonetheless.

“We’d like to sneak out a bottle of champagne, if you can spare it,” Arthur says in a low voice, surprising Merlin. He’d half-thought that Arthur would bring him home to the inn and take off again, whether back to this party or to another. But then again, maybe the bottle of champagne _is_ for his next party.

Percy shrugs, grabbing a paper bag and placing a bottle inside. “You know, we did buy so many bottles of champagne. I may have miscounted."

“I owe you one,” Arthur says, taking the bag from him.

“That’s _five_ you owe me now,” Percy says, shooting a wink at Merlin. Merlin smiles back.

“Right,” Arthur says once they get outside to wait for the car. “Where would you like to go?"

Merlin blinks at him. “I… don’t know of any parties or anything."

“What would you most like to do on New Year’s Eve, if you could have a choice?"

Merlin bites his lip, shivering a bit in the cold. “I know it’s a bit sad,” he admits, “but I’d really rather be cozy and warm back at the inn, watching New Year’s Rockin’ Eve on the telly.” He doesn’t add _with you_ , because even if that’s the truth, he doesn’t want to make Arthur feel obligated to stay. He’s only in town one more night after this, and tonight is one of the biggest social nights of the year. Merlin doubts he wants to spend it cooped up in an antiquated inn.

But when he glances up, Arthur is smiling at him warmly. “That sounds perfect,” he says.

“Are you sure?” Merlin asks as the car pulls up. “I don’t want to ruin your evening."

“Merlin,” Arthur says, exasperated, “the only way you can ruin my evening is if you run off to bed when we return and leave me to drink this champagne alone, holed up in my room."

Merlin smiles as he climbs into the car. “As if I’d let you hog all the champagne."

******

Arthur surprises him when they get back by immediately announcing that he’s going upstairs to put on pajamas, and that Merlin should too.

Merlin puts away the suit with a small frown. He’d thought he’d get more than a couple hours’ use from it, but maybe something else will come up. He digs out his old Sherlock Holmes pajama pants (patterned with pipes and deerstalker hats) and his comfiest t-shirt, determined to be comfortable after the night he’s already had.

Arthur still hasn’t returned, so Merlin darts downstairs to get a couple of glasses for the champagne. He doesn’t have anything resembling wine glasses, but these will have to do.

He settles on the couch, switching on the 20-year-old tube TV and searching for the right channel, and that’s when he spots Arthur coming down the stairs. His hair is mussed, and he’s more casual than Merlin has yet seen him in a Star Wars t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Merlin doesn’t know why, but it’s the most he’s ever been attracted to him.

“Are you really going to take up the entire couch?” Arthur asks, effectively breaking Merlin’s trance.

“I have as much a right to it as anyone,” he says, deliberately stretching his feet across to the other side. Arthur retaliates by immediately going to sit on top of his legs. Merlin protests loudly at his heaviness and pushes him off long enough to yield the other half of the couch.

They pass the time easily, dropping into the comfortable conversation they’ve always had thus far. Merlin tells Arthur about the time he spent New Year’s in a basement playing D&D, and Arthur shares stories about life in California, from family celebrations gone wrong to celebrity sightings no one will believe. Meanwhile, Ryan Seacrest tries to sound excited on TV as the hour gets closer, and Merlin tries not to think about kissing Arthur at the stroke of midnight.

Arthur pops the champagne just as the countdown begins for the final minute, and immediately after they jointly shout, “Happy New Year!” he takes a huge swig directly from the bottle. He hands it to Merlin, who takes his own drink and relishes the way it feels going down.

Arthur takes the bottle away from him almost as soon as he stars lowering it, and Merlin thinks for a second that he just wants more for himself. Instead, he moves in intently just as Merlin swallows the champagne, his lips capturing Merlin’s.

Merlin’s breath hitches briefly before he gets with the program and kisses back, forgetting all the reasons he’d just convinced himself not to do this. Arthur smiles and shifts a bit, and all Merlin can think is that he should be closer. He fists the Star Wars logo of Arthur’s shirt to bring him closer, and the two of them make out lazily to the sounds of people yelling outside in celebration of the new year.

Eventually, Merlin shifts back to give his mouth a break. Arthur follows suit and pulls away, both of them grinning like fools.

“So, erm, better than the stuffy work party?” Merlin asks.

“Infinitely,” Arthur says, eyes dancing. “Truth be told, this is where I was hoping we’d end up all along."

Merlin scoffs. “On this couch? You set your bar rather low, Arthur."

“Maybe not this couch in particular,” Arthur says with a bit of a leer, his eyes shifting over to the doorway to Merlin’s room.

Merlin pretends not to have heard him, his glance shifting to the TV. “Oh look, Taylor Swift is about to perform.” Loathe as he is to admit it, he really likes Arthur. Jumping into bed with him now, when he’s about to leave, could only end badly for Merlin.

Arthur lets him change the subject, and they soon become caught up in discussion over what genre of music is truly superior. Merlin doesn’t really have strong feelings either way, but he still enjoys the way Arthur’s face goes red when Merlin says he prefers Taylor Swift to Fergie.

They pass the bottle back and forth as they talk, ignoring the glasses completely. Merlin feels a twinge of sadness at having to give this up soon, but he does his best to ignore it. Maybe they can keep up correspondence via email. Arthur never seems to be far from his phone.

He puts it out of his mind completely when a commercial for the latest _Hobbit_ movie comes on and Arthur admits to loving the franchise. Merlin rushes to find out his favorite characters and what he thinks of the adaptation.

“Would you look at that, you’re a complete geek,” Arthur says admirably.

“Yes, you’re in good company,” Merlin admits. “Now answer the question."

Arthur goes into detail about why he thinks he’d be aligned with the Dúnedain, clearly having thought this through before. Merlin explains in turn why he’s always been sympathetic toward the elves, wanting to live in Rivendell ever since he’d first read the books.

They’re just getting into the highs and lows of Peter Jackson’s adaptation when several hotel guests bustle in from the cold, clearly having just left some sort of celebration if their metallic hats are anything to go by. Merlin greets them cheerfully as they head upstairs, trying not to feel self-conscious about how close he and Arthur are on the couch. If Arthur doesn’t feel the need to pull away, then Merlin’s not going to argue.

Arthur lets him finish his thought on the latest _Hobbit_ movie, but as soon as he finishes his sentence, Arthur moves in once more. His lips brush Merlin’s tentatively at first, and then with more certainty as Merlin reaches for him.

Their kisses are a bit more urgent this time. Merlin lets himself give in to the pull of Arthur, just for a little while.

“It’s getting late,” Merlin says quietly when they finally pull apart, his thumb absently tracing the line of Arthur’s jaw. “I have to get up to put out breakfast in the morning."

“We should probably get to bed,” Arthur suggests.

“Yeah,” Merlin says, barely suppressing a sigh. He doesn’t particularly want this night to end.

“Only,” Arthur begins, eyebrows drawing together, “the third floor is so far away. And you know, it’s terribly drafty up there…"

“Oh please.” Merlin laughs incredulously. “You were just saying this afternoon how it’s perfectly cozy up there."

“Maybe I didn’t realize at the time how much better it was down here,” Arthur says, and the weight of his implication suddenly hits Merlin. He’s suddenly hyper-aware of Arthur’s hand on his waist, the press of his thighs, and the intent look in his eyes. The probability of this ending badly seems to dwindle down to nothing when he’s got Arthur _right here_ , watching him and _waiting_. It’s the New Year, and he wants to try taking a chance.

“What…” Merlin swallows thickly, weighing his words carefully. “What can I do to make your stay more enjoyable?"

Arthur smiles wickedly.

He tries to keep the volume down as they tumble into his bed, ditching clothes along the way, but it’s not long before Arthur pulls a moan from him with his teasing. He takes Merlin’s cock in hand and licks a deliberate stripe from the base to the head, but then immediately moves away to kiss and bite at Merlin’s thighs. Merlin suddenly finds a whole vocabulary of curse words he’d never realized he had, and his hands slide into Arthur’s hair to try and guide him back.

Arthur laughs lightly, his breath ghosting over Merlin’s cock, and then he finally takes him into his mouth. “ _Yes_ ,” Merlin hisses as he gets lost in the sensation of Arthur’s mouth on him, and suddenly he finds himself telling Arthur exactly how amazing he feels.

Merlin tries not to keen when Arthur eventually pulls off. “You really never shut up, do you?” Arthur says, his hand wrapped lazily around Merlin’s cock, not nearly providing enough friction for Merlin’s satisfaction.

“Well, there is one way,” Merlin retorts, and after a few seconds of rearranging, he slides his lips over the head of Arthur’s cock. As Merlin slowly takes him further into his mouth, Arthur doesn’t talk, but his breath catches and he sometimes grunts in a way that goes straight to Merlin’s cock.

Arthur warns him off with a tug of Merlin’s hair, which makes Merlin glare at him as he straightens up. Not at all apologetic, Arthur just laughs and hauls him in for a sloppy kiss, his right hand skimming down Merlin’s back until Merlin can feel two fingers just barely teasing against his hole.

Not one to waste time, Merlin pushes into the touch, encouraging Arthur without breaking the kiss. Arthur, however, pulls away long enough to ask, “Are you sure?"

Merlin makes a frustrated noise and continues to kiss Arthur desperately, his left hand reaching out blindly for the drawer of his bedside table. He reaches the handle right away, but after a few seconds’ scramble inside, he doesn’t find what he’s looking for.

He’s finally forced to pull away, and he digs through the drawer for nearly a full minute before he finds the lube somehow slipped inside a pack of tissues. By the time he fishes it out with a triumphant noise, Arthur is laughing so hard, he’s at risk of hurting himself.

“Shut up,” Merlin says through a smile, throwing a condom at his face.

“You tried to be so smooth,” Arthur says as he pulls Merlin back to him, “but you failed so miserably."

Their laughter fades, however, as Arthur shifts focus and begins to work Merlin open. Merlin rocks back against Arthur’s fingers, suddenly feeling desperate and urging Arthur to get the fuck on with it.

Somewhat to Merlin’s surprise, Arthur complies. It seems barely a moment before he’s pushing in, those soft little grunts from before now more pronounced and just as maddening now that Merlin can watch Arthur’s face as he makes them.

He barely has the patience to let himself adjust. He wants Arthur to move, _now_. Still, he convinces himself to wait a beat, and Arthur is being so attentive, holding himself still even though Merlin knows he has to want to move as much as Merlin wants him to.

“Okay,” Merlin breathes once he starts to feel more comfortable. He’s barely got the word out before Arthur is moving, creating a perfect jolt of pleasure with every thrust, and Merlin is barely embarrassed to find himself muttering filthy, encouraging words in response.

He avoids touching himself for as long as possible, wanting to draw out this good feeling. But when Arthur fists his cock and begins to jerk him off in time with his thrusts, Merlin is suddenly _right there_ , and he comes with a strangled cry.

“Fuck,” Arthur mutters, tilting his head onto Merlin’s shoulder and fucking into Merlin with increasingly frantic thrusts. His breathing becomes more labored until suddenly, he slows, letting out one long moan as he rides out his orgasm.

Exhaustion sets in pretty quickly once Arthur recovers enough to pull out. They make a half-assed effort to clean up, but not to recover any clothes, and Merlin is pleased to find out that Arthur is not tired enough to resist more kissing.

He falls asleep feeling warm and optimistic about the New Year.

******

The next morning, Merlin jolts awake, disoriented as he pulls out of whatever strange dream he was having - he’s pretty sure dragons were involved.

Last night’s events come back to him in a rush, bringing a blush to his cheeks, but that’s about all the warmth he feels, because when he tries to turn and spot Arthur, he's nowhere to be seen.

Convincing himself it’s for the best, Merlin pulls himself out of bed and makes himself just presentable enough to go put out breakfast. He trods downstairs in a bit of a daze, wishing absently that he’d gone to bed earlier.

“You’re up,” Merlin hears suddenly from above a few minutes later, and looks up to see Arthur coming down the stairs with a paper bag and a drink tray. He's flooded with something like relief as Arthur offers him a scone and hands over the earl grey creme tea he’s so fond of.

“You knew I had to put out breakfast,” Merlin reminds him before taking that first heavenly sip of his tea. When he opens his eyes, he finds Arthur looking back at him intently.

“I don’t sleep much,” Arthur says, after a pause. “I didn’t want to wake you, so I thought I’d go out for a treat. I was sure I'd be back before you woke."

Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but Merlin imagines disappointment in Arthur’s tone. Whether it’s real or not, the thought warms him as much as the tea Arthur brought back for him.

He busies himself with organizing the bagels and bread, trying to ignore Arthur’s eyes on him. Usually he’s right there filling up every silence whether it’s needed or not, but right now he can’t think of a single thing to say.

“What are you doing today?” Arthur suddenly asks, surprising Merlin by just how close he is.

“We have one check-out scheduled,” he answers. He can’t decide if he wants Arthur to be asking him out again, so he leaves it at that.

“It’s a corporate holiday today,” Arthur says. “Not completely, for me, but I don’t think much will come up if I spend a day on the town. Would you be interested in joining me?"

Merlin’s heart gives a slight lurch as he realizes what he wants. The answer is unequivocally yes, but because it is, he should really say no. He has to consider the way he woke up, expecting Arthur to be there, and the crushing disappointment that came with finding him gone. The way he felt when Arthur chose to stay on the couch with him to ring in the new year. The way he’s growing attached to Arthur, despite the fact that he’s leaving tomorrow.

The longer he lets himself be around Arthur, the harder it’s going to be to say goodbye. He opens his mouth to decline, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he finds himself saying, “I don’t know what time 2A will check out, but after that I’ve got some free time. I can’t go far, mind; I’ll have to leave my number on the counter for emergencies."

He can count on one hand the number of times someone has come in off the street looking for a room, and their residents very rarely come down to ask for anything. The extra linen closet is clearly labeled, and any other issues tend to be solvable over the phone. Still, he doesn’t like to take chances, and this way he’ll have an out if he changes his mind.

Arthur grins. “You can find me on the couch whenever you’re ready."

“Lazy sod,” Merlin accuses as he heads back up to the desk. Arthur’s laughter follows him up the stairs.

******

“You know this area better than me,” Arthur says as they stroll down the street a few hours later. “Show me all the hidden gems."

Merlin takes him first to his favorite bookstore, a small second-hand shop tucked in between a salon and a restaurant. They lose more than an hour in there, mostly sticking together and laughing when they reach for the same book. Despite Arthur’s misgivings on certain aspects of fantasy, Merlin is able to convince him to pick up a couple of titles that rely heavily on the use of magic.

Arthur has to take a call just as Merlin is finishing up his purchase, so Merlin takes the time to catch up with Gwaine, the cashier. Apparently they’re training a new girl, Elena, who Gwaine says is hopelessly clumsy but still charming in her own way.

Just as Merlin is laughing at Gwaine’s recounting of the latest book he read, Arthur comes back in, his expression turned dark.

“Everything alright?” Merlin asks, his eyebrows drawing together in concern.

“Fine,” Arthur answers shortly, his eyes flicking to Gwaine. “Ready to move on?"

“Sure,” Merlin answers. “Have a good one, Gwaine. We should catch up soon."

“Ta!” Gwaine says back, giving Arthur a salute.

“Are you in the mood for sweets? There’s an excellent bakery just around the corner. Their cupcakes are massive.” Merlin chatters on about the place, doing his best to ignore the fact that Arthur’s body language has completely closed off.

“Oh good! Freya’s working today,” Merlin says as they get inside. At Arthur’s audible sigh, Merlin can’t hold back any more. “Are you going to tell me what your problem is?"

Arthur looks at him in surprise for a moment, his expression quickly clouding over again. “There’s no problem. Are you going to flirt with this cashier too?"

Merlin can only stare at him for a second, processing what he’s said. And then he bursts out laughing. “You thought I was flirting with Gwaine?” he asks incredulously.

“It was fairly obvious,” Arthur says.

“Gwaine is just a friend,” Merlin says, a laugh still in his voice. “And he’s hardly the type I go for. Far too…"

“Full of himself?"

“Quick to judge,” Merlin corrects. "What makes you think I don’t like blokes who are full of themselves? I’m out here with you, aren’t I?"

And just like that, the sparkle in Arthur’s eyes returns, and he uncrosses his arms. “Don’t be an idiot, Merlin."

“What can I get you?” Freya asks, and Merlin realizes they've reached the front of the line.

Merlin smiles back at her and orders his usual, a cream cheese iced cupcake with cookie dough in the middle. He focuses on Arthur, making suggestions as to what he should order so that he won’t descend into playful banter with Freya. He and Freya actually do have a history, but Arthur doesn’t need to know that.

Once they’ve finished eating, Arthur crowds him against the wall in the narrow hallway that leads to the restrooms, kissing him quick and urgently.

“I’ve been thinking about that all day,” Arthur says. “Couldn’t quite stop myself any longer."

The day passes too quickly after that. They spend some time in the local park, just people-watching and chatting.

“January’s the most ambitious month,” Merlin says as they observe a more-than-usual number of joggers. “The month when everyone thinks about all the things they’d love to accomplish in the next year, and promptly bite off more than they can chew.”

Arthur laughs. “With an outlook like that, how do you ever get anything done?"

“I pace myself,” Merlin comments with a cheeky grin, innocently bringing his hand down to rest on Arthur’s leg.

It doesn’t surprise him when they have another night of staying up too late, and this time he doesn’t wait for Arthur to make insinuations, but instead pulls him along to his bedroom.

He expects his second night with Arthur to be as rushed and frantic as the first, but Arthur surprises him by starting slow.

Arthur eases him back onto the bed, helping him out of his shirt and ditching his own. He climbs over Merlin and kisses him intently, his hands trailing lazily across Merlin’s skin.

“So tell me about what you’re writing,” Arthur says, settling in beside him and pressing kisses to his jaw, but otherwise backing off.

Merlin looks at him in some surprise. “You’ll probably say it’s too unrealistic,” he points out, but Arthur waves him off. So Merlin finds himself laying out the concept, a medieval knight stepping forward to battle a dragon, only when he captures the dragon’s prize jewel he somehow transports both himself and the dragon forward in time to the modern day. “It’s all about his quest to find a proper magician to send him back."

“Plus he’s got a dragon to account for,” Arthur says. His hands are now tracing patterns across Merlin’s arms and down his chest.

“Yeah,” Merlin laughs. “The dragon has quite an adventure as well."

Arthur lets Merlin talk for a while, commenting occasionally. He never manages to take his hands off Merlin, but his touches are never quite enough to derail Merlin from his current thought.

Merlin is just getting to the part of the book that he’s currently frustrated over, though, when suddenly Arthur's touches turn bolder. He slides his hand purposefully over Merlin’s cock through his clothes, and Merlin can’t help but tilt his hips up into the friction as he stutters through the rest of his sentence.

“Go on,” Arthur prompts. “Don’t let me stop you.” But he does stop him, because Merlin can’t possibly focus on his book when something much more important (but perhaps equally frustrating) is going on.

Arthur laughs when he says as much. “Talk about something else then,” he says, though it sounds more of a request than a demand.

Merlin eyes him suspiciously. “Last night you wanted me to shut up.”

“Maybe I’m growing accustomed to the sound of your voice.”

Merlin feels a pang at that, especially as he looks into Arthur’s eyes and finds that he means it. Meanwhile Arthur’s hands are still teasing, now tracing the line of his waistband lazily.

Exaggerating a put-upon sigh, Merlin starts rambling about his favorite time of year - autumn - and exactly why he feels that way. Arthur smiles and rewards him as he talks by easing him out of his trousers and applying his touches a bit more firmly to Merlin’s hardening cock. Merlin shuts his eyes and begins to punctuate his story with a few extra curse words as he rocks up into Arthur’s grip.

Arthur is apparently much more suave when it comes to reaching for the lube, because Merlin doesn’t even expect it when a well-oiled finger teases around his rim and then slips in. Whatever he had been talking about disappears from his mind, and the words escaping his mouth are nothing more than filthy encouragement for Arthur to keep going.

Arthur begins to move his two fingers in and out, agonizingly slowly, and it’s even more agonizing when he pulls away and Merlin hears him shifting around. He opens his eyes, already mouthing off about Arthur being a complete tease, and is greeted with the pleasant sight of Arthur taking Merlin's cock in hand and then into his mouth.

“Oh, christ, oh _fuck—_ ” Merlin gasps out as Arthur’s fingers return, this time with a third sliding alongside the first two. No longer teasing, Arthur fucks his fingers into Merlin deliberately, until Merlin is practically begging for his cock.

He half-expects Arthur to stare down at him with a smug grin as he straightens up, but he looks almost as wrecked as Merlin feels. Merlin’s cock twitches as he realizes how turned on Arthur is just from making him feel good. He reaches for Arthur and pulls him into a crushing kiss that Arthur quickly returns.

It takes Arthur a moment to shed the rest of his clothes and pull the condom on once Merlin releases him, and Merlin does his best to fist his hands into the sheets and not berate Arthur for taking so long.

It’s worth the wait, though, when Arthur finally eases in, filling Merlin up until every nerve in his body seems on edge. When he starts to move, he takes his time, and Merlin languishes in every catch of his breath as he works up a rhythm.

Arthur doesn’t seem to be in a hurry tonight. He takes time to lean in and kiss Merlin every so often, losing the rhythm of his thrusts but sounding all the more pleased once he starts up again.

Merlin finally reaches down to pull himself off when he can’t resist the temptation anymore, and Arthur reaches for him at the same time, both of their hands working over his cock. Merlin imagines for a moment how good it would feel for Arthur’s cock to push against his own, leaning him up against a wall as their hands wrapped around both of them. He banishes the thought as quickly as it came, trying desperately to stay in this moment.

It works, because Arthur is murmuring, “C’mon, c’mon,” and suddenly his grip falters on Merlin’s cock, his mouth going slack as he pumps into Merlin and comes.

Merlin is close, so close, and once Arthur recovers enough to help him once again, Merlin tumbles past that edge and comes, his whole body feeling alight.

In the haze that follows his orgasm, Merlin can’t help but remember his unbidden thought, the encounter that he’ll never have with Arthur, because this was their last night. He pours himself into the kiss that Arthur gives him when he comes back to clean him up, but the thought still presses on his mind when Arthur steps away again, presumably to toss the towel in with the wash.

Feeling stupid and suddenly very vulnerable, Merlin turns away to face the wall. When Arthur comes back to bed, Merlin stays rigid, his mind racing.

“Merlin?” Arthur asks, concerned, and Merlin immediately gets out of bed and heads for the bathroom.

Safe behind the bathroom door, he lets his body sag in defeat. He has to put a stop to this. Now.

“Are you alright?” Arthur asks through the door.

“I’m fine,” Merlin says, putting on his sternest voice. He moves some of his toiletries around the sink to give himself something to do. “I was just thinking, you know, you’re paying for that bed upstairs. Seems a waste not to use it.”

Arthur’s quiet for a long time. Merlin’s heart feels like it’s trying to escape through his chest. Finally, Arthur says in a deathly quiet voice, “You want me to go upstairs.”

“It’s probably for the best,” Merlin says as if he’s agreeing with Arthur’s idea.

He can practically feel Arthur’s judging eyes through the door. He feels like a coward, but he just can’t do it. He can’t wake up to Arthur tomorrow and say goodbye.

He hears Arthur moving around the room, seemingly gathering his things. Arthur doesn’t say anything further. Merlin listens for the sound of his door opening as Arthur leaves, but he can’t bring himself to go back into his room. He runs the water in the shower, forcing himself to stand under it for a few minutes.

When he returns to his room, the light is off and the door is shut. All he can see in the darkness is the bitter glow of the clock. He sighs heavily and tells himself again that this is for the best.

He sleeps fitfully for a couple of hours, full of anxiety about the next morning. The thought of smiling politely as Arthur checks out and leaves his life forever haunts him. He knows they could exchange numbers, keep up a correspondence, but Merlin doesn’t think he can do it. If Arthur even wanted to keep up with him after this, Merlin would just be waiting for the day that Arthur realized his mistake. And it would be so easy for Arthur to cut him off and focus on his life in sunny California. No, Merlin can’t go through that again.

He calls up Gaius at the crack of dawn, knowing that his uncle is usually up around that time. He asks him to cover the morning shift as a favor, making up excuses that he knows Gaius will see right through. Still, Gaius agrees to come over while giving him minimal grief.

Merlin hides in his room until well after check-out, keeping his headphones on and the door locked. He even manages to get a few more hours of sleep, but they’re not much more restful than his night had been.

When he finally emerges from his room, Gaius tells him he was asked after by one of the guests checking out. Merlin ignores his knowing look as he dismisses the comment and thanks him for covering. He grabs a late lunch from the cafe on the corner, then comes back to his room and spends several hours writing and writing about a hero that doesn’t exist.

******

His life goes on. He still feels bitter about everything that happened with Arthur, and Gwen is gracious enough to let him vent about the situation without being too hard on him for hiding from goodbye. His therapist doesn't let him off the hook as easily, but talking about it certainly helps. He doesn’t blame Arthur for anything that happened, but he’s still angry with himself for falling for someone who he knew was leaving.

He tries to channel the strongest of his feelings into his writing. He lets his hero feel sorrow more strongly than he’s ever written before, his heart hurting even as he types, but he feels better once it’s written. His blog posts turn a bit maudlin, but his regular readers seem to be supportive, even though they don’t truly know the reason for his sadness.

It gets to the point, though, that his friends start to show concern, and that’s when he decides to make an effort to move on. Gwen decides to host a super bowl party, and Merlin agrees to come.

Gwen calls him just as he’s on his way out the door, sounding frantic. “I thought I had vegan options but it turns out the mix I bought has dairy ingredients. I didn’t _know_. Mithian's going to kill me."

“Don’t worry about it, Gwen,” Merlin says, trying to sound soothing. “I’ll stop by Whole Foods on my way over. They have plenty of quick options.”

“Really? Are you sure it’s not too much trouble?” Gwen asks, but he can hear the relief in her voice.

“It’s no trouble at all,” Merlin assures her.

******

Truly, he doesn’t think it is any trouble, but as soon as he steps into Whole Foods he remembers why he so seldom comes here. They have so many unique options at prices so much higher than his meager paycheck from the inn… and yet he doesn’t quite have the self-control to resist.

He knows he should just grab something ready-made and head straight to Gwen’s before kick-off, but he can’t stop himself from checking out the frozen food section. He navigates his way through several carts and turns down the aisle, then promptly freezes in his tracks.

Just down the aisle, staring at the frozen pizza selection, is Arthur.

For a moment, Merlin can’t decide if it’s wonderful or terrible to see him again. All of his feelings come rushing back at once, and while he’s still deciding between running away or running toward Arthur, he looks up and their eyes meet.

Arthur pauses with his hand on the freezer door, looking very vulnerable for a moment. But then, just like that, his expression clears and he looks away.

Merlin makes his decision then. They can hardly pretend not to have seen each other. He approaches Arthur and says, “Arthur, hello.”

“Merlin,” Arthur says shortly, not glancing back at him. He seems to be engrossed with the pizza selection.

“How long are you in town for?” Merlin says, every word burning in his throat.

Arthur stares back at him for a long moment, seemingly bewildered. “I live two blocks from here.”

Merlin’s mouth goes dry. That can’t be right; he must have misheard. He runs through their conversations in the back of his mind, all of Arthur’s references to family back home, and he can’t help voicing his disbelief. “No,” he says, “you… you live in California.”

“Do I?” Arthur says, his tone condescending as he turns away from Merlin and reaches for his frozen pizza. “News to me.”

Merlin is starting to feel angry now. “Why would you rent a room if you live three neighborhoods over?”

“I was giving myself a break from my roommate." He’s gone back to looking at Merlin like he’s an idiot, but some of the harshness seems to have faded from his expression. “Did you really not know that I live here?”

Now it’s Merlin’s turn to stare. Of course he hadn’t known! How could he possibly have known?

Arthur must pick up some of this sentiment, because he says, “But my _company_ is here. We went to my company’s Christmas party.”

“Oh god,” Merlin can’t help but mutter as the reality of it all starts to sink in. He’d made a huge mistake. He’d been so callous to Arthur because he was going away - something Arthur couldn’t even help - and it turns out that wasn’t even the case.

“I need to get home,” Arthur says, turning his cart in the other direction and already heading off.

“Wait!” Merlin shouts before he can figure out what to say. Arthur pauses, but he doesn’t turn around.

Merlin scrabbles to pull his phone out of his pocket. “Can I at least get your email address? I should’ve asked for it in the first place. You can always delete what I send straight away, if you don’t want to read them.”

Merlin’s pretty sure a ghost of a smile passes over Arthur’s expression as he turns back, even though it quickly disappears. He holds out a hand for Merlin’s phone and quickly types something in to the contact card Merlin already has open. “If you sign me up for any newsletters, I’ll never forgive you."

So forgiveness seems to be on his mind, Merlin thinks. Arthur walks away almost immediately after handing Merlin his phone back, but Merlin feels lighter than he has in days.

******

Merlin gives himself 24 hours to send Arthur an email. He doesn’t want to send it immediately; he’s too worked up to send it the same night as he heads back to Gwen’s, but he doesn’t want to leave it too long to where he’ll overthink it and Arthur will have moved on from him entirely.

He decides to send Arthur a sample of his writing that he’s particularly proud of, something he wrote last week that, if Arthur thinks about it hard enough, he should realize is truly about how Merlin’s been feeling since he failed to say goodbye to him.

He attaches the file as sample1.txt, and then agonizes over the contents of sample2.txt. If Arthur is unimpressed by his first attachment, or if he deletes Merlin’s email without reading it, he’ll never get to sample 2. But if he does, Merlin doesn’t want anything to be left unsaid.

_If you’ve gotten this far, then you at least don’t find me a talentless twit, unless you’re reading this aloud to your friends for a laugh, in which case I must beg you to delete this sample immediately._

_I am, actually, something of a twit. The talentless bit is debatable. I’d thought that you were going back to your glamorous life in California, where you’d quickly forget about that boring bloke that worked at the inn. This is something of a sore spot for me, though you did nothing to invite that kind of suspicion. In fact you made every effort to get me out of my head, and I was too thick to see that before now._

_I wish a lot of things, now. I wish I’d called the number you had on file (a local area code, I see now). I wish I’d talked about my stupid insecurities before ruining my chances with you. More than anything, I wish I hadn’t made you go upstairs or even leave my room at all, ever._

_My nights talking with you were some of the best I’ve had in a very long time. I’d completely understand if you wanted to stick to email, but I hope we can at least continue talking here._

In the body of the email, Merlin tries to make the attachments sound enticing, though marketing has never been his strong suit.

He spends a few hours agonizing over every word, but eventually he saves the file one last time and sends the email before he can go over it again.

He spends an hour staring at his cursor in lieu of actually doing any writing, always keeping one eye on his inbox. When the little red 1 appears to tell him he’s got a message, he nearly knocks the laptop off his desk going for the trackpad, but it’s just an ad from Groupon Getaways, which he’s pretty sure he’s tried to unsubscribe from at least three times.

Finally, he has to admit to himself that he’s never going to get any writing done in his current state. He shuts his computer all the way down and goes to bed earlier than he has in months.

******

He regrets everything the next morning when his phone is dead and he has to wait for his laptop to boot up just to check his email.

A response is there from Arthur, from about an hour and a half after he’d given up for the night. He never would have made it that long.

He takes a deep breath and opens the email to find one line of text.

_you can call the number you have on file_

His heart gives an uncomfortable lurch as he goes through a range of emotions processing what this means, but he finally settles on relief. If Arthur wants him to call, that means he read everything, and he’s at least willing to hear Merlin out. That’s all Merlin has dared to hope for.

After taking another minute to let it sink in, Merlin scrambles out of his chair to go get the number and find his phone charger. He waits just long enough for his phone to power back on and then stays huddled close to his computer as he dials Arthur’s number.

He takes a few seconds to panic as he listens to the rings. What the hell is he doing? But then Arthur answers, and Merlin forgets to be nervous.

“Well you certainly didn’t waste any time,” Arthur says, amused.

Merlin smiles. “Well, I just had to know your opinions on my writing style."

Arthur hums in contemplation. “Your character is certainly relatable, though I think you may be taking a few things for granted."

Merlin has no idea if he’s talking about the first sample or the second. “Like what?”

“Well, for one, you mentioned something about ruining your chances.” Merlin’s breath catches. “I don’t think that’s for you to decide.”

“I thought… after the way you reacted at the store…”

“I was reacting to someone who thought of me as a one night stand,” Arthur says matter-of-factly.

“With cold disinterest?” Merlin says, still feeling bitter.

“With casual indifference,” Arthur clarifies. “I try not to waste my time being interested in someone who’s done with me."

“I’m not done with you,” Merlin says before he can stop himself.

“And that’s why we’re talking now,” Arthur says, and Merlin can hear the smile in his voice.

They slip easily into conversation from there, Arthur discussing his job and Merlin listening with interest to find out what Arthur really does. In turn, it so happens that Arthur does actually have comments on Merlin’s real writing sample. Merlin is pleased to discover that he paid enough attention to understand the scene in the context of the story Merlin had previously outlined.

They talk for nearly two hours, until Arthur curses and says he has to get to work, and Merlin lets him go with a promise that he’ll talk to him tonight.

He has a rather productive day, going out and getting some errands done, and then coming back to do some writing. It helps that he keeps getting random texts from Arthur detailing how boring a particular meeting is, or how his co-workers need to learn how to dress appropriately.

Merlin responds to the latter message with a picture of his own outfit, scarf and all.

Arthur’s response is almost immediate. _if you worked here, you’d be sacked immediately_

Merlin doesn’t know why, but that makes him smile more than anything else.

******

After nearly two weeks of only chatting on the phone and texting all day when Arthur’s in meetings, Merlin is going crazy. It was such a relief, at first, that Arthur had forgiven him and that their rapport was still on the same level it had always been. But Merlin _wants_. He wants Arthur so much now that he’s let himself feel everything without denying it. Only whenever he suggests he and Arthur go out and do something together, Arthur pretends to consider and then gives some outrageous excuse that he doesn’t bother to make believable.

Today, he says his company is well on its way to creating a new breed of dinosaur, and he can’t break away. Arthur’s really excited about the upcoming _Jurassic Park_ movie; this is the third time he’s referenced it today.

“Well maybe you’ll find some free time by June to go see the movie that explains why that’s a bad idea,” Merlin suggests, and Arthur makes a noncommittal noise.

Arthur then gets into what Merlin has coined his Daily De-stress, in which he complains about the morons he has to work with and Merlin makes sympathetic noises. When it comes Merlin’s turn to say how much writing he did or didn’t get done, he has to pass.

“I’ve got to run,” Merlin says, a touch regretfully.

Arthur makes a noise that makes Merlin think he’s disappointed too. “Doing anything fun?”

“Going out for drinks,” he says distractedly. He can’t find his scarf.

Arthur is silent for a moment. “Skip it.”

“I can’t,” Merlin says with a sigh. “I committed to this a couple weeks back.” When he was still somewhat miserable, he doesn’t add. Gwaine had clearly suggested drinks to cheer him up.

“Sure,” Arthur says easily. “Have fun.”

“I’ll text you,” Merlin says, feeling a little frazzled. Why can’t he find his blasted scarf?

He thinks for a second that Arthur has already disconnected, but then he says a quiet, “Goodnight, Merlin.”

“Does that mean I shouldn’t text you?” Merlin tries to say, but Arthur has already hung up.

******

Merlin is terrible company at the bar. Maybe it’s the Valentine’s Day decorations or the fact that he’s here with two couples, but he’d much rather be on the phone with Arthur right now than ignored by his friends. Elena and Gwaine are still a new couple and sickeningly sweet as a result. Gwen and Lance aren’t nearly as bad; Merlin has known Gwen forever, and he actually considers Lance good enough for her. They tend not to leave Merlin out most of the time, but for some reason when they’re around other couples they get caught up in each other more than usual. Perhaps it’s an unconscious impulse.

He hasn’t told anyone he’s back in touch with Arthur, and for now he’d rather not. They seem satisfied that he’s happy again, and he doesn’t want to hear any lectures over whether or not this is a good idea. He pulls out his phone to text Arthur while everyone is apparently distracted.

_couples should not be allowed to invite out their single friends at this time of year_

He doesn’t have to wait long for Arthur’s reply.

_imagine if your roommate were dating your sister_  
_though I don’t know if I’d call myself single_

Merlin nearly chokes on his beer.

“Are you alright?” Gwen says, concerned.

“Fine,” he says, turning his phone face down. The interruption seems to have drawn their attention away from each other, because Gwaine is asking him now about his book.

“You said last week that you were starting to make some good progress."

“A bit,” Merlin says, tearing at the label on his beer. “It’s mainly dependent on my ability to focus."

“So you’ve got about a page done,” Lance teases.

Merlin throws the torn-off label at him. “How is the Monmouth account these days, anyway?” he asks, eager to get the focus away from him again. He finds it hard to talk about his work; he’s still surprised at himself for sending Arthur a piece of it without about a dozen revisions. He’d been too caught up that night on trying to win Arthur’s favor again, and perhaps he had. Could Arthur’s message mean what he hoped it meant?

As soon as Lance starts to give them an update, Merlin pulls his phone into his lap and looks at the messages again. He follows the impulse of the slight buzz of the night and sends, _hard not to feel single when you’re at the bar by yourself_

He listens intently to Lance, even when his phone vibrates with a response. After about a minute, he glances down again to see Arthur’s response. _hard to join you when I don’t know where you are_

Merlin can hardly bear to hope that Arthur is serious. He sends the name of the bar so quickly he misspells it and has to send a correction. After that, he pockets his phone and fights to focus on the conversation.

“Are you waiting for someone?” Gwaine leans over to ask while Elena is wrapped up asking Gwen and Lance about their dog. He snickers at Merlin’s stricken expression. “Don’t bother denying it. You’ve been glancing at the door for the past ten minutes.”

“He’s probably not coming,” is all Merlin will say. He hasn’t gotten a response since he sent the location, and a bitter part of him assumes Arthur had been joking and doesn’t know how to respond.

He’s distracted by the waiter’s return, trying to decide what he wants to try next, when Arthur steps up to their table, eyes shining. Merlin can hardly believe it. “Er, let’s just have another of these,” he says distractedly without looking back at the waiter.

“I’ll have the same,” Arthur says, slipping in beside Elena. Merlin has never regretted sitting in the middle more than he does right now. Arthur introduces himself to everyone, and Gwaine is quick to cut in.

“Oh, you’re _Merlin’s_ Arthur,” he says, laughter in his eyes.

Merlin doesn’t particularly care about the teasing. Arthur is _here_. “Yeah,” he says, “so let me out already.”

Once he’s settled next to Arthur, their knees touching under the booth and Arthur’s arm resting comfortably behind Merlin’s shoulders, everyone else fades away. “What happened to your dinosaurs?” he murmurs, bumping his shoulder against Arthur’s.

“They can incubate without me for an evening,” Arthur says. Merlin doesn’t argue with him; whatever caused him to change his mind is enough. “Gwen, your dress is lovely, by the way. Did you make it yourself?”

Gwen blushes and confirms before explaining how she made the dress.

Arthur seems to be making an effort to get to know his friends, but Merlin is overwhelmed by the fact that he’s actually close enough for Merlin to see his facial expressions; close enough to touch.

Merlin takes an opportunity when the focus is on Lance and away from the two of them to place a hand on Arthur’s thigh. Arthur’s eyes meet his in an instant, half-lidded in a way that goes straight to Merlin’s cock. Merlin leans close and whispers, “I don’t consider myself single either.”

“You’ve got someone on the side?” Arthur says, teasing in a low voice. His smile is absolutely wicked, and Merlin stops caring about what his friends think as he leans in to kiss him.

It’s like nothing else he’s ever felt before when Arthur kisses him back, his arm moving to pull Merlin closer to him for the brief seconds before he pulls away, looking flushed. Arthur recovers rather quickly from everyone’s stares by clearing his throat and asking Lance about his work. Merlin’s heart is beating frantically in his chest. Kissing Arthur had always been amazing, but tonight, with both of them on the same page and Arthur _finally_ coming out with him, it’s all coming to a head.

“I would want to feel I had earned it,” Lance is saying, and Merlin tries to catch up to their conversation. He realizes with a small start that Arthur is offering Lance a job.

“Of course,” Arthur says, pulling a business card out of his wallet. “But from what Merlin tells me, you’re highly competent. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble. Give me a call next week if you’re interested; I’ll set something up.”

Lance is looking hesitantly hopeful as he takes Arthur’s card. Merlin catches Lance's eye and does his best to look encouraging. To him, trading one corporate job for another is out of the frying pan and into the fire, but Lance is well suited to that kind of work, and Merlin’s sure he would thrive at Arthur’s company.

“I’ll take one of those too, if you’re handing them out,” Gwaine says cheekily, holding his hand out.

“Gwaine, c’mon,” Merlin says. “This isn’t quite your favorite type of work. You do realize you’d have to wear a suit every day.”

Arthur shrugs. “It doesn’t hurt to make contacts.” He hands over another card. “Give me a call if you’re serious.”

Gwaine is looking at Arthur with a surprised sort of respect, and Merlin can’t help but smile. Gwen catches his eye and smiles too, communicating her approval.

Arthur fits in seamlessly with Merlin's friends, and the night passes by too quickly. When Lancelot mentions that they should probably head out, the others follow his lead. Merlin doesn't want this night to end, but he slides out of the booth all the same.

Arthur seems to read his mind, sliding his hand under Merlin's elbow and murmuring, "We could move to a smaller table and stay a bit longer."

Merlin smiles. They say their goodbyes to the others and move to a quieter part of the bar. Arthur sits close at the table, close enough to touch.

"I have to ask," Merlin says after they both get another drink. “What made you change your mind tonight?”

“About what?"

“About coming out with me."

Arthur takes a long time to answer, looking back at Merlin and seeming to think his answer over carefully. Instead of answering, he asks Merlin, “When I asked you out, that first time, did you actually want to go out with me?”

The moment feels heavy with anticipation, so Merlin resists the impulse to immediately say yes. “I wanted to,” he says, “but I had a lot of hangups about getting into something with a stranger. Especially one who I thought was leaving within days.” It’s nothing they haven’t discussed before; Arthur knows all about Merlin’s latest breakup. They’ve left the direct connection unspoken, though, and Merlin supposes that should change. “The fact that I was very interested in you is exactly why I was so… hesitant."

Arthur nods, looking contemplative as he takes Merlin’s hand in his own. “I suppose I wanted to prove you wrong, by not coming out,” Arthur finally says. “I wanted you to see that, distance or not, we could work.”

Merlin’s heart feels heavy with relief as he realizes Arthur is as serious about this as Merlin is. “And what made you change your mind?” he asks again.

Arthur smiles. “I rather lost my resolve when I thought you were going on a date."

“What, tonight?” Merlin says with a laugh.

“You said you were going out for drinks. On Valentine's Day,” Arthur says with a glare. “What was I supposed to think?"

“That I was seeing my _friends_ ,” Merlin says with a roll of his eyes. “Tell yourself whatever you want, but _I_ think you just needed an excuse. You wanted to give in.”

"Maybe," Arthur says, nudging him under the table. "For all that you never shut up, you really can be a terrible communicator."

Merlin makes an indignant noise. "At least I'm not a vague prat about everything."

“No, just an idiot.”

Merlin punches at Arthur’s shoulder, but Arthur dodges him and uses the movement to pull him closer. He catches Merlin’s lips in a kiss before Merlin knows what’s happening, and Merlin kisses back briefly before pushing him away with fake annoyance.

They go back to their drinks for a moment, smiling and content. “You’re the only one I feel comfortable talking to about my book,” Merlin eventually says. He tries to make it sound flippant, casual, but it feels like a confession.

He glances up to meet Arthur’s gaze, the moment heavy with emotion. He looks away before he can do anything embarrassing, which is lucky because their server stops by moments later. Merlin asks for the check, and by the time he meets Arthur’s gaze again, the moment has dissipated.

“It’s not too late,” Arthur says once they’ve finished paying, glancing at his watch. “What is it that you want?”

Merlin swallows and reaches a hand out to fix one of Arthur’s buttons that is out of place. He leaves his hand there, focusing his gaze on that rather than on Arthur’s expression. “Right now I want to free up this table for the late night crowd and head toward either your place or mine. In the morning, I want to wake up with you there and not just over the phone. And in between I want to have you as many times as we can manage, in every variation between frantic and slow.”

Arthur opens his mouth to respond, and Merlin glances up to note the flush that has risen on his cheeks, but he’s not done. If he doesn’t say this now, he may lose his nerve.

“And I want… I want to admit how much I want this without fear of scaring you away.” He forces his eyes up to meet Arthur’s. “I want _you_.”

Arthur lets out a shaky breath, reaching up to cover Merlin’s hand. His voice is low and full of promise when he says, “We should head back to yours.”

As they step outside, though, Arthur pulls Merlin aside to a shadowy part of the street, backing him up against the wall and giving him a kiss full of more promise. Their Uber car is only three minutes away, but Merlin hopes to make the most of those three minutes. His hands have pushed beneath at least two of Arthur’s layers when his phone buzzes to let them know Kingston is here.

They’re a giggling mess all the way from the car to Merlin’s room, despite the fact that Merlin keeps shushing Arthur and trying to stop laughing.

It almost seems that Arthur has never been here before; that Merlin is seeing him with new eyes. They don’t even get to the bed before Merlin is pressing himself up against Arthur, their bodies colliding and hands roaming in their utter need.

Arthur’s hands scrabble at Merlin’s zipper even as Merlin urges him to lean against the back of his door. Merlin cups Arthur’s cock through his jeans, pulling a moan from him just as he gets his hand in Merlin’s pants.

After a few moments’ coordination, he manages to pull Arthur’s jeans down enough to get where he’d been aiming all along. Arthur groans in approval as Merlin brings their cocks together, meeting Merlin’s mouth in a rough kiss before switching their positions to press Merlin against the door.

The low thrum of arousal that Merlin’s been feeling since Arthur showed up tonight is building rather quickly now, and from the way Arthur is pulling away from their kiss, breathing heavily and fucking into Merlin’s fist, it’s the same for him. Arthur’s hand joins Merlin’s around their cocks, and Merlin lets his weight fall back against the door as his orgasm slams into him. Arthur curses appreciatively and pulls the both of them off, making far more noise than is decent, which is all Merlin can ask.

When Arthur’s body is effectively slumped against Merlin’s own, Merlin mumbles something about the bed and pushes him in that direction. He can’t stop touching Arthur, still feeling so turned on that he’s blind with it. He mutters something to that effect as they fall into Merlin’s sheets, causing a laugh from Arthur.

“Give me five minutes,” he says with a cheeky grin.

Merlin rolls his eyes. He’s hardly ready to go again, but that wasn’t the point. He knows Arthur gets it, though, because he shifts to fit his body against Merlin’s and pulls him into a scorching kiss.

At some point, they must fall asleep, because the next thing Merlin knows he’s blinking back awake and squinting against the lamp light. He makes a small, unhappy noise at the mess they didn’t bother to clean up, which causes Arthur to shift and blink his eyes open.

“Sorry,” Merlin whispers, pulling reluctantly away from Arthur as he goes to get something to clean them up. Arthur reaches out as if to stop him, but Merlin is already out of arm’s reach.

Arthur is more fully awake when Merlin comes back with a wet cloth, and he wastes no time waking Merlin up too, pulling him into a kiss as soon as he’s within touching distance.

They take a moment to ditch what’s left of their rumpled clothes, lazily moving against each other.

“I got what I wanted last time,” Merlin says. “It’s your turn."

Arthur’s hands slide down to cup his arse. “I’d like to finger you for a bit.”

Merlin’s mouth starts to water, and he swallows quickly in effort to ignore it. “You’ll likely make me wake up the whole building,” he warns.

“Something to aim for,” Arthur says in agreement.

The anticipation is killing Merlin as Arthur takes his time with the lube, so he just starts talking. “I don’t know why we don’t pace ourselves. We’re going to do all the best things tonight and run out of ideas by the end of the week.”

Arthur smirks down at him. “I know you have a better imagination than to believe that,” he says, and then circles one finger around Merlin’s hole.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Merlin says, and continues to come up with more ridiculous scenarios as Arthur works him up further. When Arthur has three fingers working in and out of him, slow and teasing, Merlin gives up the pretense and starts demanding for Arthur to stop teasing.

“I thought this time was about what I want,” Arthur quips, more than a little breathless.

“Are you telling me you don’t really want to fuck me?”

Arthur swallows thickly and curses. He acknowledges the call to his bluff by reaching for a condom. Neither of them last long once Arthur pushes inside, Merlin’s words becoming less coherent and mingling with Arthur’s moans as they move together, pleasure building until they come.

A blissful exhaustion quickly sets in as Merlin comes down. He’s aware of Arthur moving away briefly, some noises from the bathroom, but he’s nearly asleep by the time Arthur comes back to bed. “Lazy sod,” Arthur murmurs against Merlin’s lips, pulling him close and pulling the covers over them. Merlin kisses back, smiling and not denying the accusation. He drifts off, content, in Arthur’s arms.

Merlin wakes up leisurely for the first time in a long while. His dreams fade pleasantly to reality as he feels Arthur plastered to his back, one arm slung around his hip.

He maneuvers a bit to lie on his back without waking Arthur. He’s amused to find Arthur’s face smashed into the pillow, drooling slightly. It should be gross, but Merlin’s a little annoyed to find that it's slightly endearing.

He glances over Arthur’s shoulder at the clock, and wonders if they might have time for another round before Arthur has to run to work. With this in mind, he sneaks a hand under the covers and takes Arthur’s cock in hand, pulling with slow, even strokes.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Arthur is gasping out within minutes, sounding reverent, as he clutches at Merlin’s shoulders.

It doesn’t take much convincing after that to get Arthur to take a day off work.

******

On Day Two of their relationship (or Day 14 or Day 45, depending on where it's counted from), Arthur really does have to go back to work. Merlin refrains from texting him naughty things all day, but they do still text. They finally reach a lull toward the late afternoon, when Merlin realizes his last few texts have gone unanswered. Arthur must be in a meeting.

After a couple of hours have passed, Merlin checks again, but there’s still no response. He reads his latest message over again and frowns. _You should bring your Star Wars pajamas over tonight._

It had seemed fairly harmless when he sent it, but according to his phone, Arthur read the message within 5 minutes of him sending it.

Merlin sighs. He should not be obsessing over things like this. Arthur would surely tell him if he didn't want to spend the night together again so soon. This wouldn't be a big deal.

Or so he tells himself as he tries to focus on his writing. Eventually, far too long after he’s started worrying about it, his phone buzzes with a reply.

 _I thought maybe you could come over to mine tonight_ , says Arthur’s text. _My roommate is out for the weekend._

A smile breaks out on Merlin’s face as he reads the text. _I suppose I could slum it all the way on the north side. Call me when you’re out of meetings._

After he talks to Arthur, Merlin calls Gaius to cover the next morning and packs a quick bag. He doesn’t start to get nervous until he knows Arthur is on his way.

His wariness is confirmed when Arthur’s apartment is just as swanky and ridiculous as he’d imagined. “Oh god,” Merlin says once they get upstairs, “you live in the most snobbish apartment in the city.”

“I do not."

“You have a _concierge_.”

“Lots of people have concierges.”

“Dear lord, is that a Nespresso?” Merlin asks as he enters the kitchen. “You’ve even got the milk frother!"

Arthur crowds him against the counter and whispers in his ear, “Do you want to keep talking about the Nespresso, or do you want to see the bedroom?”

Merlin feels a thrill of feeling down his back. “Definitely talk about the Nespresso,” he says, but turns around to face Arthur and move further into his space.

Later, after Merlin’s been given a rather thorough tour of the bedroom, they make their way back out to Arthur’s couch. Merlin picks a random fantasy show he’s never heard of to put on Netflix, laughing as Arthur scoffs at the believability of the story.

“I’m not kidding,” Arthur says, “your writing is much better.”

“I would say thank you, but it sounds like the bar is rather low,” Merlin answers, laughing.

He watches Arthur’s smile out of the corner of his eye. He contemplates Arthur’s fancy place and his important job; how Arthur knows everything about Merlin, including his dead-end job and his anxiety; how Merlin screwed things up royally in the new year, and yet Arthur chose him anyway. It took a lot for Merlin to get here, and he’s sure there’s even more to come, but right now, leaning comfortably against Arthur, he couldn’t be happier.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on [tumblr](candidlily.tumblr.com)!


End file.
